


don't let the storm slow us down

by julielouise (orphan_account)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, i hate myself :-)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/julielouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when someone you've known for most of your life sits you down and works up the guts to tell you that they're in love with you? Most people, given that they reciprocate the feelings, would be ecstatic and freak out or maybe cry. But not Mikey Way. Instead, he avoided giving a direct response and then told them he needed time and then took to long to figure out what he'd probably known all along, if he really dug deep enough. And by then? Well, by then it was too late. </p>
<p>Really, it always seemed to be too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> just a couple things before u start reading! this is my first fic that i'm posting chapter by chapter, so bare with me if i fall behind on updates sometimes. if all goes according to plan i should post a chapter once a week! also, i'll probably post a playlist for this on my blog (raytorho.tumblr.com) and i post updates on there sometimes as well if u wanna check it out! that's also the best place to contact me if you ever wanna talk about this fic (please talk to me about this fic)
> 
> also, big thanks to my friend mal as well as dexus-ex-machina over on tumblr for beta-ing this!
> 
> that's p much it, and i'm sorry in advance for what happens later in the story :-)
> 
> (for future reference: this doesn't apply in this chapter, but if a scene or chapter is in italics, it's a flashback!)

Once, someone had asked Mikey what he thought the worst feeling in the world was- one that would make you stop breathing or question reality or, in the simplest of terms, break you. At first, he’d said he wasn’t sure. After a few minutes of quiet pondering, he said he thought maybe it was the feeling of being completely alone; not isolated, but like there’s no one with you. No one in your corner, so to speak. The question’s asker had nodded, and Mikey went on to ask what feeling they thought was the worst. 

Even now, years later, Mikey could remember it perfectly. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget; he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

 The way they’d laughed a little, shrugged their shoulders, looked Mikey right in the eyes as they spoke. Sometimes, looking back, Mikey thought he was stupid for not realizing it all sooner. Sometimes (all the time) he wished he had. 

_"Loving someone - really, truly being in love with them - and knowing you can’t ever be with them.”_

_But you can be,_ Mikey’s subconscious would say when he relived the moment. He knew now that it was true, and he wondered what might’ve happened if he’d known back then and if he’d said that. More than anything he wanted to go back in time and make himself say it, or, at the very least, make himself ask who the other person was talking about. But it was too late now. No matter what happened, no matter how many times he came home and locked himself in his room and cried until Frank got so worried he threatened to knock down Mikey’s door- it was too late. He knew that. Really, he knew a lot of things about the whole situation when he thought long and hard about it. He tried not to do that too much.

The first thing he knew was that he’d fucked up big time. What do you do when someone you’ve known for most of your life sits you down and works up the guts to tell you that they’re in love with you? Most people, given that they reciprocate the feelings, would be ecstatic and freak out or maybe cry. But not Mikey Way. Instead, he avoided giving a direct response and then told them he needed time and then took too long to realize what he’d probably known all along, if he’d really dug deep enough. And by then? Well, by then it was too late. 

Really, it always seemed to be too late. 

His own personal fuck up wasn’t the only thing he knew. He also knew that they were gone, they’d want to stay away from him forever if they could, that maybe they hated him. Gerard insisted that wasn’t true, that they could never hate Mikey, and he almost believed him. Granted, Gerard had known about the other person’s feelings for God knows how long before Mikey ever found out, but Mikey found it hard to believe that he wasn’t hated by them, at least a little bit. 

More than anything else - more than his own fuck up or them being gone or anything he could possibly think of - Mikey knew that he loved them. It hurt to say it, if he was being quite honest, because he couldn’t say it to them. Once he’d started figuring out how he felt, he practiced saying it - to himself, to the mirror, even to Frank, who, for the record, was a goddamn saint for putting up with him during those few weeks, but the words just wouldn’t seem to come out. He’d come up with a hundred ways to say it before he found the right one.

_I love you._

Too simple. He had so much more to say than just that.

Mikey estimated it took him about two weeks after the initial confession of love for him to realize that, yeah, he loved them too. That he was in love with them, that he loved them the same way. He didn’t know why he waited two more fucking weeks to do anything about it - it was too late by then, of course, which seemed to be a recurring theme in his life.

_I love you, too._

Almost, but not quite.

_I love you so much._

It was almost right, really, but something was missing. 

Once he realized it - once he recognized the love he had for them - he began to see that, hey, it had probably been there for a long time, he’d just never paid attention to it, he’d never thought about it too much, he thought it was the same love he had for Gerard or Frank until he realized it wasn’t. But how is someone who had never been in love supposed to recognize that? The other person had done it, sure, but they were always better at feelings than Mikey was.

_I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much that it hurts, goddammit, and I don’t know what to do about it. You’re so sure of it- you’re so sure that you love me. How do you do that? How did you know? It’s not that easy for me. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m sorry I kept you waiting and if you didn’t want to wait for me any more I wouldn’t be surprised. No relationship I’ve ever been in has worked out, okay? And maybe it’s partially because I wasn’t really in love with any of them, or maybe it’s because I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I don’t want anything to happen to our friendship if we find out we aren’t good together. I’m not turning you down. I just need to figure out how to really, really be in a relationship, because I haven’t got a fucking clue, okay? Please don’t think I’m turning you down. I’m not. I couldn’t. I am so, so, so in love with you, Ray. I know that much. I just need a little more time._

Understandably, Mikey thought now, Ray had been upset. It had been just over a month since Ray had told Mikey he loved him, and it was the second time Mikey had asked Ray to put his feelings on hold and to wait - and Ray was willing to do it. At least, the first time he was. He’d assured Mikey that he still loved him, he always would, and he didn’t want to rush him, but he couldn’t spend forever waiting around while Mikey figured things out for himself. He’d said so much more, but it hurt Mikey’s heart to think about it too much. 

Since then - since Ray had left that night - Mikey spent most of his time holed up in his room; sometimes crying, sometimes not. Frank didn’t ask why (he knew) and didn’t bother Mikey unless he got really worried about him. It was one of Mikey’s favorite things about having Frank as his roommate. Gerard called a lot, and visited when he could get away from school, and then called a lot more. He had fewer boundaries with Mikey than Frank did, given that they’d been close since Mikey was a little kid, but if Mikey really asked for space, Gerard would give it to him. He wouldn’t call for a few days, or he would leave if he was visiting, because it was weird for everyone when he and Frank were around each other given their history. Really, Mikey was glad he had the two of them. They were good support, and they knew Mikey wanted to talk about things besides the fact that he’d ruined a potential future with Ray and that he was more than a little bit of a damn mess of a person.

Talking was fucking atrocious, not that Mikey particularly cared for it anyway. Unless, of course, it was with his brother or Frank or fucking Ray, always Ray, but talking about Ray and about what had happened was so much worse than talking about anything else. Frank and Gerard never pushed; they had known for years that Ray was in love with Mikey, and they’d probably known that Mikey was just as in love with Ray, to be honest, because everyone had seemed to know except Mikey himself. They knew when Ray had told Mikey, they knew about Mikey asking for time, and they knew what had happened when Ray left. So they didn’t need to talk about it, and Mikey didn’t want to. It was a win-win situation, really. 

Mikey was doing fairly well to be so utterly destroyed inside, save for the crying-and-locking-himself-in-his-room and the refusal to talk about what probably needed to be talked about more than anything else. Yeah, he was doing just fine. 

Or, at least, _he_ thought he was.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a very brief implication of self harm at the beginning of this chapter (near the end of the flashback). no details, nothing happens. just want to make sure i say it in case anyone wants to skip over that part

If Frank’s calculations were correct, Mikey had spent just about the whole time since Ray had left locked in his room. ‘Left’ didn’t quite feel like the right word to Frank - he always liked to be more literal about things - but it was how Mikey phrased it, and Mikey was sad, so Frank didn’t object. There was a general pattern with Mikey’s sadness, Frank had learned; he stayed in his room for a while at first, then came out more and more, and sometimes ventured outside to mingle with the population, and then back to his room. Frank didn’t say much about it - Mikey was sort of broken, and Frank had never been too terribly good at consoling people. So he usually let Mikey alone, unless he hadn’t made an appearance in a few days and Frank started getting worried. It hadn’t happened much, but once was enough for it to scare some sense into Frank and make him check on his roommate every now and then.

_“Mikey?” Frank said, knocking at the closed door. “Dude, it’s noon. You haven’t been out of your room in like four days.”_

_No answer. Frank knocked again, this time with more force._

_“Mikey, seriously, open up.”_

_No answer._

_“Mikey.”_

_Nothing._

_Frank was damn near knocking the door down when it finally opened, and it startled him so much that he barely caught himself from punching Mikey straight in the face._

_“It’s open.”_

_“Dude, what the fuck? I’ve been knocking for five minutes.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Why didn’t you open the door?”_

_“I don’t know.” His voice was so small, so sad, that Frank’s heart nearly broke in two every time Mikey spoke._

_“I was worried. I thought you might’ve,” Frank stopped, glancing at his best friend. “I don’t know. Something.”_

_“No,” Mikey said. “I’m not gonna do anything. I’m just sad.”_

_“I know,” Frank nodded. “But, Mikes, it’s been a week. You don’t have to be back to normal or whatever, but at least eat dinner with me or something. Or answer one of Gerard’s calls. He’s worried sick about you, and I can’t talk to him anymore. He’s annoying as shit.”_

_“Oh, says the one who’s still in love with him.”_

_“I am not in love with your brother.”_

_“Mhm,” Mikey hummed. “Whatever you say.” A smile crept onto his face, and Frank was glad to see it, even if it was at his expense. Then, suddenly, as though a wave of reality had crashed over Mikey’s head, he stopped smiling and stared at the ground._

_“Dinner,” Frank said again. “Once a week, I won’t ask for more.”_

_“Okay.”_

It was Tuesday, the day they’d agreed on for dinners, and Mikey was still in his room. Frank was almost upset, because he’d made pasta and that was about all that he could cook well, but he hadn’t expected much, considering exactly two weeks had passed since what his subconscious was calling The Event. He didn’t want to pressure Mikey, or do anything to make him more upset, but he wasn’t sure that staying in the house and having minimal contact with anyone apart from Frank and Gerard was what was best for Mikey. Not that he had any real ideas on how to help him start to feel better.

Well, he had one. But he knew Mikey would never go for it.

He was in the middle of thinking about how he could even bring up the idea when he heard someone shuffle into the kitchen and make their way towards the food on the stove.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from his plate. Mikey hummed in response, piling pasta into a dish and sitting across from Frank at the table. 

“This tastes like rubber,” Mikey said, taking a bite. Frank grinned a little; Mikey had to be feeling a bit better if he was making fun of Frank’s cooking.

“I know. But that’s what you get for agreeing to eat what I make.” Mikey let out a soft laugh, but didn’t say anything else, and the two finished their dinner in silence. When Mikey put his dish in the sink and headed for the solitude of his room, Frank spoke up again.

“Mikey, wait. Can we just, I don’t know, talk for a few minutes?” The other boy didn’t say anything, but he walked over and sat back down, so Frank took it as a yes. “It’s been two weeks.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Mikey said quickly.

“I know.” 

Silence,

“So it’s been two weeks.” Mikey said eventually. His voice was strained. “So what?”

“Mikey, you’ve only left the house _once_. In _two weeks_. And that was only when Gerard threatened to drag you out by your hair. I know you weren’t much on social interaction before all of this anyway, but I’m really worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Frank.”

“You’re not _fine_ , Mikey, you’re functioning. And only barely. There’s a big difference.”

Neither of them spoke. Frank didn’t know what else to say, and Mikey had a look like he was being forcibly held in the chair against his will, but he broke the silence eventually.

“Okay, I’m not fine,” he admitted. “But I’m _trying_. What else do you want me to do?” His words weren’t rude, Frank decided after a moment. They were desperate.

“I have an idea,” Frank said. “But you won’t like it.” 

Mikey shrugged and motioned for him to continue.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m at the top of the list of people he’d want to see right now,” Mikey quipped.

“Mikey, I’m serious. Have you tried?”

“Have you?” Mikey shot back.

“No. But I sort of have this feeling that you should talk to him first, not me.”

“Don’t you miss him? Don’t you want to talk to him?” Mikey sounded so small and far away that Frank had to double check and make sure he was still sitting across the table from him.

“Of course,” Frank said quickly. “I want more than anything for him to be back here and everything to be back to normal. But I can’t talk to him first. He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t mine either,” Mikey reminded him. They slipped into silence again, and it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just heavy. Mikey was right, of course; the two of them hadn’t been dating. They were something, potentially, but Mikey had told Frank that he didn’t know what, and Frank sure as hell didn’t know either. He’d always thought the two of them were good for each other - he’d thought so since the first time Ray told him he liked Mikey, years before Mikey had any idea about it at all. 

“I wish he’d told me years ago,” Mikey whispered, seemingly reading Frank’s thoughts. “Before all those failed relationships, maybe. But maybe the same thing would have happened.”

“Maybe,” Frank said.

“You know what I wish?” Mikey asked, looking at Frank, who shook his head. “I wish it was four weeks ago. I wish it was four weeks ago, because that’s when I first figured out that I love him, too. I was terrified when I realized it, really terrified, but now I want to go back in time and say to hell with it and forget about every other relationship and just tell him. But it’s not four weeks ago.”

“No.” Frank said. “Can I ask you something?” Mikey nodded. “Why did you wait two more weeks to tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Mikey admitted. “I mean, yeah, I was scared, and I think that was a big part of it. Every time I thought I was in love, the relationship went tumbling down around me. So I guess when I knew I really _was_ in love, I was afraid the same thing would happen. And it kind of did.” Frank nodded; he understood. Mikey groaned and rolled his eyes at him,

“You better not be thinking about my brother right now, Iero.” Frank shook his head, but he felt his face go read and looked down at the floor. “Look, can we talk about your weird failed relationship with Gerard some other time? I’m tired.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I know it still hurts you, and Gerard knows it too. That’s why he doesn’t come over a lot.”

“I know. I’m sorry; I know you need him here sometimes.”

“Not your fault,” Mikey insisted. “You know how he is. He thinks it’ll just make things awkward for everyone, which it kind of will.” Frank nodded in agreement.

“Go to bed, Mikey. You look exhausted.” Mikey stood up and let out a yawn, and was halfway to the kitchen’s entrance when he turned back around.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Mikey said. “For talking to me.” 

“Of course,” Frank smiled. “I’m always here. I know you miss him.” Mikey nodded and left for his room, and Frank started cleaning up the kitchen from where he’d made dinner (he threw away the rest of the pasta - Mikey had a good way of telling him when his food sucked, and he was always right). 

He was glad Mikey had actually sat and talked to him. They hadn’t done it much, not since Ray left, and Frank needed to make sure Mikey was at least kind of okay. He wasn’t entirely sure his suggestion had gotten through to his roommate, though, and he made a mental note to ask Gerard if he’d talk to Mikey about it, no matter how awkward it was to talk to him. What mattered was making sure Mikey was alright, and making sure the two of them were always there for him, so he pushed all thoughts of his relationship with Gerard out of his mind. Even as much as they couldn’t be around each other, they had something in common: they’d do anything to ensure that Mikey was okay. 

After he finished cleaning, Frank watched part of some ridiculous movie on TV and then headed for his room. He’d expected Mikey to be asleep, so he jumped a little when he heard the door to his room squeaked open and Mikey poked his head out. 

“It’s late, dude,” Frank said. “Go to sleep.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’m thinking about it. I might do it.”

“Might do what? Go to sleep?”

“No, dumbass,” Mikey shook his head. “I might talk to him. To, uh. To Ray.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But it might be a good idea. I’m thinking about it.” Frank nodded.

“Night, Mikey.”

“Night.”

Frank smiled a little as he shut his door and got into bed. Mikey was thinking about it, and that was good. Baby steps, sure, but progress. 

Progress was a good thing.

 


End file.
